Cupid's Got a Brand New Arrow
by LucyVanPolevault
Summary: She'd spent altogether too much time thinking about that man's skin, whether it tasted as good as it smelled. Seriously? It was summertime in Georgia, for God's sake! That man was sweating all the damned time! But now, every time she saw a bead of sweat drip down his face, neck or arms, it took every ounce of self-restraint to not tackle him to the ground and lick it off...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Rated M for Dixon mouth, which our heroine shares, as well as that good old smutty smut. Please review and let me know what you think!

Update: I started this as pwp, but I found that I'm a sappy romantic who needs to put these two through the ringer before they can get down to it. Just wanted to provide full disclosure that it's gonna take several chapters until they get fully naked.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Lilly, my potty mouth and my filthy imagination. All credit for Daryl and the brilliant series goes to AMC and Robert Kirkman. Anyway, I'm certainly not making any money off this, so nothing here for any legal ferrets to worry about.

**Chapter One – Stupid Fucking Tree Branch**

Sweet Jesus, how in the hell was she going to do this? Should she just tell him? Fuck, what could she say, really? Goddammit, here we go again… Just another installment of the same angsty monologue that had been looping in Lilly's head for, what? About a week now? It was that motherfucking tree branch's fault, all pointy and sticking out, being in a place it had no right to be. But it had also been her fault. She'd backed up too quickly, not paying attention, trying to escape the reach of one of the walkers that had surprised them in the woods that fateful day. And yeah, she'd managed to get the clearance to swing her axe hard enough to take its head clean off, but that fucking branch had managed to do almost as much damage as that grasping walker would have done… And it sure as hell had done a lot more to mess her up than a deep, bloody gash to her leg…

That branch had been sharp as one of those redneck's arrows, tearing a six-inch long gash up her left thigh, ending right below her buttock. And dug so deep, the thing had bled like a motherfucker and hurt even worse. So after he had dispatched the other two walkers, he'd had to help her, right? What was he gonna do, just leave her there, bleeding like a stuck pig? But the way he had helped her, well… It had… Royally. Fucked. Her. Up. And now she was screwed… And not in the fun way…

Why the hell did his hands have to be so warm and gentle when he'd wiped away the blood? And did he really have to take his shirt off and flex those sexy as all fuck muscles as he was ripping it into strips to bind her wound? Did he have to be so fucking strong and… virile when he picked her up and carried her so quickly back to camp? Did his neck have to smell so… masculine and… downright tasty during the trip back? And seriously… Did he really have to hold her so goddamned tightly to his naked, sweaty chest while he carried her? And why on earth did that motherfucker have to hold her hand, help her breathe and speak to her in that deep, honeyed voice so…. tenderly while Hershel stitched her up? And his eyes? So unguarded and honest in that moment, so intent on her… And so fucking blue it was like a whole new color she'd discovered... And she'd spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to come up with a name for it...

Given the amount of pain she'd been in, none of that should have registered. But it had. In fact, every single second of the entire experience was tattooed on her brain. And since then, it had been all she could think about. Now, she couldn't NOT notice his hands. Every time she happened to see him, she was acutely aware of them, whether he was polishing his crossbow, carving new bolts, chewing on his thumb, even gutting a motherfucking squirrel! Every time she saw those hands of his, which was all the time now… It was like they were touching her thigh again, holding her down to keep her from moving while he stroked… okay, wiped… away the blood with the other.

And those muscles of his, there was no way in hell she could NOT notice them as they rippled, even with a goddamned shirt on. Why couldn't the fucker wear sleeves, anyway? Last week, when she'd seen him change his shirt after a particularly grimy hunting trip and, well… her legs had fucking buckled. BUCKLED, goddammit! Thank God she'd been standing in front of a chair at the time or she'd have fallen on her ass. 'Hey Lilly, why'd you fall down?' 'Oh, yeah… Sorry. Just the sight of the man's naked chest made me swoon….

And oh, Jesus… there was no way she could NOT watch him carry something heavy, like that deer he'd brought back four days ago. Or even when he'd toss that crossbow over his shoulder – and that thing was crazy heavy. Just the sight made her… queasy? No, not queasy… It made her lightheaded, if she was being honest with herself. And she'd be forced to remember, in vivid detail, how he'd so easily scooped her up and carried her the two miles back to camp, running the whole time. So now, of course, every time he moved his arms, she couldn't help imagining how it would feel to have him pick her up and throw her down on a bed… or the ground… or against a tree….

And his smell… Frankly, the man didn't bathe as often as she would have preferred. Certainly not even close to the amount of bathing she'd always demanded from the men who'd been lucky enough to feel her tongue on their body. But she'd spent altogether too much time these last two weeks thinking about that man's skin, whether it tasted as good as it smelled. Seriously? What WAS that? It was summertime in Georgia, for fuck's sake! That man was sweating all the fucking time! But now, every time she saw a bead of sweat drip down his face, neck or arms, it took every ounce of self-restraint she had to NOT tackle him down to the ground and lick it off.

And that wasn't the worst of it. The other day, the motherfucker had crept up on her like a goddamned ninja and leaned against her to get a bottle of water out of the cooler. Shouldn't be a problem, right? Certainly wouldn't have been a problem two weeks and one day ago… But as soon as she felt the weight of his chest on her hip, she couldn't NOT think about the feel of it against her as he carried her that day. And she'd shivered. And she'd blushed. And she'd dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep from grabbing him and mounting him right there in the middle of camp.

They were friends, weren't they? But she'd been avoiding him like the motherfucking plague these days, trying like hell not to let him get within five feet of her. Hoping like hell it would quell these motherfucking URGES she was having all the damned time now. He had to be thinking she'd turned into a fucking psycho. Well, good thing her new five-foot distance rule didn't allow for a whole lot of conversation. And thank the good lord he didn't talk too much to the others. Because now, on the rare occasions when she heard his voice, even when he was snarling at her, she couldn't NOT hear that soft, honeyed drawl of his while he'd talked her through one of the most painful experiences of her life. That goddamned motherfucker…

They'd managed to become pretty good friends, until that fucking tree branch attacked her. She knew he was a prickly, foul-mouthed redneck. But so was she, except for the redneck part. One of the things she respected most about him was his lack of tolerance for any form of bullshit. Probably because he was like her in that respect. And the redneck was honest to a fault. No way would he even think about wasting the time or energy to throw a string of pretty words together to get his point across or make you do something for him. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. How could you not admire that about a person? And he was kind, too, underneath the caustic, irritable front he liked to fool everyone with. Hell, he'd been the one who'd found her in town, helped her fight off a sizeable pack of walkers and invited her back to his camp. The first time he'd saved her ass. The first of many…

She liked him as a person, goddammit! They'd shared stories, laughed at one another's jokes… And she knew he liked her too. And the man didn't like many people, so that said a LOT. Not to mention, he'd let her move into his tent that first night, for fuck's sake! All it had taken was a few pulls of moonshine, a shared appreciation for the band Whiskeytown and a cigarette, and the socially-stunted loner had let her share his private space. Wow, good thing there was no danger of him ever ending up in prison… Showing that kind of compassion would get him in all kinds of trouble... Whatever. Allowing others to share his space was bizarrely out of character for him. It had certainly shocked everyone else around camp. And while she was pretty certain he would have loved to have his tent back, particularly after those couple of times he woke up all embarrassed to find his morning wood saying howdy to her ass, he hadn't kicked her out. Leaving him a cigarette on his pillow every night probably helped…

But after the motherfucking tree branch incident, staying in his tent had become untenable. Hershel had made her stay in the farmhouse that first night because of her stitches. But the next night had been agony… She hadn't slept a fucking wink. Couldn't keep her mind from obsessing over his hands, his naked chest, his smell, his voice… She'd had to keep stretching her leg, straining her stitches and silently screaming through the pain, just to keep from rolling over to his side of the tent and having her way with him. Jesus, that was one of the most excruciating experiences of her life, even more than the stabbing from that motherfucking tree branch.

After that night, she knew she had to put some distance between them. So she'd begged Maggie to let her sleep on her bedroom floor and tossed that lame excuse to him about it being too hot to sleep in his tent. Why on earth hadn't she put more thought into that? Maggie's room was on the second floor and it was like a goddamned sauna up there! As soon as she'd said it, he'd looked at her like she was crazy… Then heartbroken, quickly covered by a veil of 'fuck off, bitch.' He knew how hot Maggie's room got. Hell, that was the excuse she'd given everyone as to why she snuck out to sleep in Glenn's tent every night. So he knew she'd been lying. He just didn't know why.

He thought they were friends. And then she tosses him some lame excuse as to why she couldn't sleep in his tent anymore? And then avoids him like the plague after he saved her life? No wonder he was hurt. Not like he'd ever tell her that his feelings were hurt. No, not that defensive son of a bitch. He'd just shut down on her. Taking every opportunity he could to let her know that he didn't give a fuck about her vanishing act. That hell no, he didn't miss her. But she knew better. She knew he was hurt. And she felt like a fucking coward. And a liar. And a bitch for hurting the one person who had become, if she was truly honest with herself, her best friend in the world.

So that was why she was here. Back in his tent. Listening to him glare at her. It hadn't been easy. She'd spent the last two days building up her courage and planning her strategy. Taken a shower with her new roommate's best-smelling stuff, shaved her legs and used lotion. She'd actually taken time with her hair, letting it air dry and hang loose around her shoulders. Even borrowed one of Maggie's sundresses, ignoring the woman's wide eyes and deflecting her questions. Just praying that all this girlie stuff would force him to act like a gentleman, keep him from wringing her neck before she had a chance to say her peace. And maybe… Make her irresistible? Make him realize that he was insanely attracted to the hot piece of ass who'd been treating him like a leper for the last two weeks?

She'd waited until they'd doused the campfire and everyone went to bed before sneaking across the yard and barging into his tent. Bold as all fuck, that was her. Just unzipped the flap and scooted right on in, ignoring his scowl and "what the fuck?"

She held up the pack of Marlboros and bottle of Jack Daniels she'd managed to hunt down during yesterday's run into town with Glenn. "Peace offering." Tension seizing every muscle in her body because she knew there was no way he was going accept anything from her without a fight.

"Fuck you. Leave it and get the fuck out." His signature scowl, amped up to ten just for her, was plastered across his face.

She steeled herself. "Nope. You want my peace offering, I get to stay. It's called etiquette, you redneck fuck."

Now the sneer… "Ain't it too hot in her for you, princess? Get your ass back to your tower."

She steeled herself. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. But if I leave, these are going with me."

He was looking at her, but it was hard to read his expression in the dim light given off by his battery-powered lantern. It was either 'I'll just get wrecked and ignore her until she leaves' or ' Let's see if she has the guts to explain why she's been acting like such a fucking bitch.' Probably both. But she was able to read his glare loud and clear as he snatched the bottle out of her hand, twisted off the cap and guzzled about two shots. She let out her breath, glad to know she'd been right about him not being able to turn down the booze. She grabbed the bottle back from him and guzzled as much as she could in one go, coughing as the burn raced down her throat.

And so it went. The bottle passed back and forth. Cigarettes lit and smoke blown through the side flaps of the tent. And not a single fucking word. Just the overwhelming heat of his anger and her crippling anxiety. With faint whiffs of crushing insecurity, which was definitely hers. But she now had a good buzz. And it seemed help her relax just enough to remain in that silent, toxic stew. And being with him again, after so long, was forcing her to confront the reason she was here, back in his tent, trying to make things right. That she missed her best friend and was trying her damnedest to figure out how to tell him the truth. That, since the tree branch incident, she… Well, if she was going to tell him the truth, it had to be the unvarnished truth. No context, no reasons, no explanations. He wouldn't care about any of that. He'd want the straight truth… And that was… Well… She wanted him. Yes. That was it. Now that she was forced to simplify it like that, really, what other way could she put it to him?

Should she just say it? Straight out? "I want you." Or should she show him? By leaning over, right now, and kissing him... The way she'd been wanting to kiss him for two weeks now. Well, on second thought… She'd scare the hell out of him if she just leaned over and laid that kind of kiss on him right out of the gate. But she could kiss him, couldn't she? What would he do? Push her off and kick her out of his tent? Confess that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him? And then the heavens would open up and the angels sing… He was much more likely to pull the guy card and take what she was offering because, well, he had a dick… But then get all weird tomorrow. Which would leave them in even worse shape than they were now. Because now, at least, he could blame her, Lilly the bipolar bitch. But if it got awkward, well… It would be awkward. Because he'd feel guilty about sleeping with her because it was convenient.

Goddammit! She wasn't going to do this anymore. It was time to get off this fucking merry-go-round and make a move. And stop drinking, because the bottle was half empty now and she needed to dismount without breaking her fucking neck.

Lilly took the bottle, capped it and set it aside. She tossed her cigarette out of the side flap. And tried to shut off her brain as she leaned over and kissed Daryl Dixon.

A/N: Please review. Before I published my first story, I didn't get why so many authors begged for feedback. But now I get it. Without it, it's like dropping a little piece of your soul down a deep well and waiting in vain for it to hit the bottom... Sniff...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Be warned, smutty smut coming up, mixed with a bit of the angsty angst. And when I say smutty, I mean if you're under the age of 18, your God, parents and any authority figure you're scared of will instantly be able to read every single filthy word you've read on your face kind of smutty. But if you're over the age of 18 and that's what you're into, welcome.

UPDATE: For those of you who've read this before, I've corrected a few typos, changed the wording in a few places, and reworked the part right before she pulls up the dress. Nothing major, though.

Guest and Sandy: Thanks for your reviews! Hearing stuff like that makes me want to dive back into the story. You and everyone else who took the time to leave reviews are awesome! Hell, anyone who took the time to read my stuff is awesome!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Lilly, my potty mouth and my filthy imagination. All credit for Daryl and the brilliant series goes to AMC and Robert Kirkman. Anyway, I'm certainly not making any money off this, so nothing here for any legal ferrets to worry about.

**Chapter Two – Truth or Dare**

The kiss she gave Daryl was a soft one. Slow, tentative, a little bit searching, and lasting all of about three seconds. With absolutely no response from him whatsoever. Lilly sat back and tried her damnedest to read the man's expression. Nothing. It was utterly blank. At least from what she could see in the dim light in the tent... But as the pause stretched out into a downright uncomfortable silence, his expression started to reveal a bit of shock. Fuck… Was that a scowl she was seeing now?

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. She leaned over, burying her face in her arms, trying to hide her face.

"What are you sorry about?" Daryl spat out. "That you kissed me? Or that you've been a total fucking bitch to me for the last two weeks?"

"That I've been such a bitch." She still couldn't look at him.

"Why?" He didn't sound angry. That was good, at least.

Lilly was still too afraid to meet his eyes. If she did, there was no way she'd be able to explain herself. She raked her fingers through her hair, trying like hell to pull herself together and find the words to answer him. But how the hell was she going to do that? Until now, she hadn't put any thought into how she would answer the most obvious question, now had she? Because she was a dumb fuck, that's why. She finally summoned the courage to look at him and was stunned to see that he didn't look pissed off anymore, just puzzled. Daryl had been angry at her for what seemed like forever. Pretty much every time she'd caught him looking at her over the last two weeks, she had been met with animosity. And, sad to say, she'd gotten used to it... But now, it was gone, freeing her to find the words to answer him. "Things changed for me and I didn't know how to handle it. I freaked out."

He didn't respond. He just sat there looking at her with those freakishly intense blue eyes. Good lord, his eyes were beautiful. Just why the hell was he looking at her like that, anyway? Did he have any idea what kind of effect it was having on her?

"Kiss me again." Just a statement. Like it was the third time he'd asked the waitress to bring him a glass of water.

Now she was freaked out. And shocked. And very, very aware of him staring at her with those motherfucking eyes of his… What in the hell did he mean by that? If he wanted another kiss, why didn't he just come over and take it? She'd certainly made it pretty clear that she wouldn't slap him like a prissy debutante. Maybe he just wanted to make her work harder for his forgiveness?

Hmmmm… She could do that… And hell, it was another opportunity to kiss those tasty lips of his. She moved closer and knelt in front of Daryl, reached out and gently stroked the back of his neck with one hand, then cupped his cheek with her other as she leaned in and gently brushed his lips with hers. Again, but with a bit more pressure. And again, slightly more pressure, ending with a feathery slip of her tongue to his bottom lip. Oh, yeah. That was a shiver… Yup, he shivered… The zombie apocalypse hadn't taken the game out of this girl…

"Again." Still no expression in his voice.

She was feeling a bit more confident now. "Are you gonna kiss me back this time?"

"Dunno. Inspire me…" His voice was still blank, but she caught a flash of a smirk in his eyes.

Lilly chuckled. So that was how he wanted to play this… That was okay. She could do this, no problem. No way he'd be able to resist her for much longer. The next kiss she had planned for him was going to melt both him and his twisted, yet strangely sexy scheme to make her pay for being such a bitch. She leaned in to Daryl and slid her arms over his shoulders until her elbows were resting on his shoulders, her arms crossed behind his head, her fingers buried in his shaggy hair. And her breasts firmly pressed against his chest. My God, it felt so good to be this close to him… She laid a soft kiss on his temple, slowly brushed her cheek down the side of his, the edge of her lips dusting the side of his face… The feel of his stubble against her skin was delicious… The smell of leather and sweat and… whatever the hell else that was uniquely Daryl was making her feel all swoony… She continued, gliding her lips along his jawline and up, tilting her head and dragging her bottom lip until they were right there… Seeking, deepening…

Oh, there he was … kissing her back now, his hands tightly gripping her back and neck, pulling her into him. Pressure and softness, heat and wetness. Sweeping tongues and fervent lips… This… This… This was what she had wanted for so long… She could live in this kiss for the rest of her life… Jesus, the feel of his lips, so soft and hard at the same time, so hot they were melting hers into submission… And the feel of his tongue, insistent, dominating, taking possession of her mouth… Yes… He was thorough. And relentless. He wanted her mouth and she wanted him to have it… Take all of it… Take my lips, take my mouth, take my breath… I want you to have them. Just give me yours… Dear lord….

Daryl pushed her back onto the tangle of his blankets, one hand supporting her back so she wouldn't fall, the other on her ass, pulling her up so that she could unfurl her legs and make room for him. She moaned softly into his mouth as she felt the weight of him push her onto her back, the length of his body, its heat, its hardness blanketing hers. Yes… Closer… Still hopelessly lost in his mouth, his lips, his tongue… But needing to be closer still, bring him into her… She hooked one knee around his hip and pulled herself closer. Oh, Jesus… She could feel him right there… pressing into her thigh… so unbelievably hard…

Lilly shifted until that delicious hardness was right there…. She squeezed her thigh around him and pushed up… And gasped at the feeling of him as he met her, thrusting into her with an urgency that set her blood on fire… The sound of him as he groaned, "good God, Lilly…" into her mouth sent all that fire straight to the pit of her stomach, triggering a deep pulsing ache…

Suddenly, he pulled out of their kiss, panting into her neck, hot, damp breath bathing her skin. He took several breaths, then raised himself up to look down at her, blue eyes blazing, looking like they could catch on fire at any second. "Why are you jumping my bones like this when I'm so fucking pissed at you?" he whispered, the exasperation evident in his voice.

"I was scared… I didn't know how…" Wait… She was not going to talk about this now! You don't ask a woman suffering from severe dehydration to start talking about her thirst while she's guzzling a bottle of fucking Gatorade! She groaned, "Jesus Christ, just shut up and kiss me!" as she wrapped her other leg around his waist and squeezed, pulling him into her. And he did. Boy, did that man kiss her... She was helpless and she didn't want any help. She was drowning and she loved the water. She was breathless and she hated air. She just wanted him. On her… In her… More…

He reached behind him and grabbed her thighs, pulling them higher, and pushed himself deep… Fuck… That sweet hardness was making her insane… She rolled her hips, meeting each of Daryl's thrusts, as she reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up so that she could reach his skin. God, the feel of him, his muscles… She pushed the fabric up to reach more skin, whimpering when he pulled away to reach behind him and yank the shirt over his head. Oh, yes… She had a backstage pass to those muscles now and she couldn't keep her hands off them, roaming, kneading, stroking… She never wanted to take her hands off of him...

His lips were on her shoulder now… Lilly could feel his lips, his teeth… Oh, good lord, now his tongue was sweeping up her neck, his lips had found her earlobe, his teeth gently biting now… The sound of his breath panting in her ear… Oh, and his hands… There they were, dragging the straps of her dress down, forcing her to take her hands off of him as he continued to pull the straps down her arms until they were free… Oh… Yes… Now his lips were moving down her chest, his tongue sweeping just inside the lace edging of her bra… Oh… my… God… His mouth on her nipple, lips sucking, teeth teasing through the satin… Sweet Jesus… don't stop… Right there… Yes…. Lilly groaned deeply, from a place so deep in her throat she didn't recognize it as her own… "Fuck… Daryl… Please…" She arched her back as he reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, then pulled it off. Free now, she reached up to rake her fingers through his hair and pull him back down, pushing her breast into his mouth.

His lips and tongue were teasing her nipple again, triggering a violent shiver… What on earth was he doing to her? Oh, Jesus fuck…. He'd replaced his mouth with his hand, rolling the hard nub between his fingers, and moved his mouth to her other breast. Lilly moaned, "Daryl…" at the feel of his lips sucking, tongue flicking… Gasped as the feel of his teeth grazing her nipple pulled a river of current out of her chest, straight into the pool of heat growing in her belly.

She was writhing now, had no idea how to contain the shivery currents racing between her breasts and her hot, gooey center other than to lock her ankles around his hips and pull him into her as deeply as she could… Jesus, the feel of his cock, that exquisite hardness, as it pushed into her… Nothing on earth had ever felt so good… Good God… She needed to feel him, needed to touch him…

Lilly snaked her hand between their bodies and glided her fingers just below his waistband, skimming the tip of his cock. She felt him as he groaned, "Jeeesusss…" the sound echoing against her skin and setting her blood on fire… She reached deeper, felt him freeze and his stomach muscles contract as she found his shaft… Hot, silky, heavy and oh, so hard… She inhaled sharply as she wrapped her fingers around him and slid them down his length, increasing the pressure in her grip as she approached the base, releasing the pressure as she came back up, stopping at the head to massage the drop of moisture she'd found at the tip. A sound emerged from deep within him, a sound that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a whimper or a groan…

She suddenly realized that he'd stopped moving… stopped breathing. In one quick motion, he pushed himself off of her, reached down to yank her hand out of his pants and rolled onto his back, pulling deep breaths into his lungs and pushing them out of his pursed lips. After about the fifth breath, she heard him mutter, "I didn't just go through two weeks of bitch hell to come in my pants…"

Daryl was still pissed. Undoubtedly. Understandably. The realization drove Lilly to pull her arms up and cross them over her head, nails digging into her elbow, and take several deep breaths of her own. After about a minute, her pulse slowed, the insane urge to touch him quelled for the moment… She suddenly felt exposed and pulled up her dress so it covered her breasts. "I am a bitch. I don't blame you for hating me…."

"Jesus Christ, Lilly, I don't hate you… Whole thing is still fucked up and it's gonna take me a while to get over being pissed… But I think I get it…" He paused for a few moments before speaking again, this time in a hoarse whisper. "It was that day your leg got cut, right?"

She felt him shift and roll over on his side to face her. She opened her eyes, turned her head and saw him looking at her, his eyes flickering with something… Concern? Tenderness, maybe? She suddenly felt like crying. Not wanting him to see her tears, knowing it would stop this honest moment in its tracks, she squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply, before opening them again and rolling onto her side to face him. She grabbed his hand with both of her own and nodded, knowing there was no way she would be able to squeeze any words through the tightness in her throat.

"I thought you shut me down… Because… Because I… Whatever…" Daryl's voice trailed off as he turned his head to stare at the roof of the tent for a moment before turning back to her, silent, with an expression that pleaded with her to give him the words to finish his sentence.

"I've already established that I'm a dumbass, Daryl. I don't understand what you're saying…" She hoped like hell he couldn't hear the tears in her voice.

He took a deep breath. Then another as he turned to look up at the tent's roof again. "When you were gushing blood out there in the woods, when that walker almost got you… I fucking lost it. I…." He took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing. "Fuck… I can't do this shit, Lilly…"

"You think I'm any better at this stuff?" Lilly laughed. She couldn't help it. The mere idea of him looking to her for help was ridiculous.

Daryl snorted before continuing, "yeah… I guess you're right." He stopped for a few moments, pressing his lips together, before speaking again. In fits and starts, obviously frustrated with his inability to express himself. "I hated having you in my tent. You know that? So many times I just wanted you gone. But I wanted you there, at the same time. And then I just got used to it…"

"Used to what?"

He gestured at her in an exasperated manner. "Wanting this. You. You, naked…"

Ohhhhh… Lilly suddenly didn't feel like crying anymore. He'd been wanting her? Like she wanted him? She felt like a moron... She hadn't realized all that had been going on with him... But wait a second. How on earth could she have known? Because if Daryl Dixon didn't want you to know what he was thinking, there was no way in hell you'd ever figure out. He'd certainly never given her any indication... Hell, other than giving her privacy when she went to the bathroom in the woods and those two mornings when she'd woken up to his morning glory, Daryl had always treated her like a guy!

And honestly, she didn't know how she would have responded if he had tried anything before the fucking tree branch incident. Until then, she hadn't thought about him like that. Sure, occasionally, she had noticed something about Daryl that struck her as objectively attractive. But living in constant fear for her life didn't make a woman feel all that sexy.

Probably had something to do with Maslow's hierarchy of needs… She'd been too consumed with shelter, food and keeping her flesh out of the teeth of those goddamned corpses to think of anything else. Once all hell had broken loose, the most she'd allowed herself to hope for were people who'd have her back and, if she was lucky, a few laughs to soften the constant strain of having to fight for survival. So, basically, it had taken a near-death experience to make her realize that she needed something more?

More what? More sex? But this all-consuming _need_ wasn't just about his dick. It wasn't just about scratching an itch... This... thing with Daryl was more than just... Shit. She was putting too much thought into this. Time to crack a joke. "So… You're saying you wanted… This?" Lilly grinned and pulled down her dress, exposing one breast. "Or did you want both?" She bared her other breast. "Or did you want the whole enchilada?" She bared both breasts, then started to pull her dress down farther.

Did Daryl just growl at her? Yup. He just growled at her. And he just yanked her dress up too! Fucker… "Stop distracting me, woman. I'm trying to make a fucking point. I wanted the whole enchilada, but I knew you didn't want that from me. At least I didn't think you wanted that from me…" his voice trailed off. He paused before shooting her a scowl, then continued in an exasperated voice. "What the hell do you want from me? You need to tell me, because I'm fucking sick and tired of trying to figure out what's going on in that head of yours."

Fuck… Called on her bullshit. She owed it to him to suck it up and tell him. Lilly took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him, hoping it would keep her honest. "I… I don't know how I felt about you before... that fucking tree branch stabbed me." His eyes narrowed. "But after, well… I guess I figured it out. In the most histrionic way possible, I guess… But I figured it out." She nodded to emphasize her point, before continuing. "But honestly? I don't know… what I would have done if you'd tried to kiss me or anything like that before that day. I very well could have freaked out on you. I just wasn't thinking about any of that kind of stuff. It was too… Impractical? Not something I had the energy to think about." Daryl pressed his lips together and nodded.

She looked down at her hand, now pressed against his chest, before raising her eyes to look at him again. She was about to tell him what happened that day and she needed to make sure he understood her. "But that day…" She shrugged. "Something shifted that day. The way you were with me… the way you touched me…. It was like you suddenly became this new person for me." She frowned and shook her head. "No, wait… That's not right. You were the same – I was the one who changed… And it felt like it came out of nowhere, at least it felt that way. And suddenly, everything was different for me, and I couldn't shake it. I thought that if I got some distance… But really, I was just a fucking coward. It was easier to stay away from you, to hurt you, than to let you know what was going on with me."

Daryl looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowed and lips pressed tightly together, obviously taking in what she'd just told him, before reaching over and slowly dragging his fingers through a wayward lock of hair. He started to play with it, eyes intently focused on his thumb, his index finger and the hair he was twisting between them. Then he started to speak, a flood of words, his voice low and gravelly... And the most Lilly had ever heard him say at one time. "Yeah… It all changed then, huh… Just seeing you bleeding like that, not knowing what to do… I'd gotten so good at ignoring it… But then it all came out… How much I… I wanted you. I was sure you saw it all. And I thought I scared you off. And I was pissed at you for not wanting the same thing. And I was pissed at myself for letting you see it. And then you couldn't get out of my tent fast enough… And you wouldn't even look at me… And I thought you hated me and wanted me to fuck off and die… And I'm PISSED at Jack Daniels for making me talk like a fucking idiot…"

Lilly scooted towards him and cut him off with a soft kiss, then leaned back a bit, just looking at him, trying to reconcile the man who'd just said all this with the irascible redneck who'd never met a conversation about 'feelings' that he didn't want to bludgeon with a sneer or smother with a scowl. "I'm developing a fondness for Mr. Daniels," she said with a smirk. She started to run her fingers through the hair on his chest. "I had no idea this was going on with you. I was just so worried that I couldn't be that same person for you, the one you could go hunting with… crack jokes with… I thought that if I got some distance, I could go back to being that person for you. But it didn't work. And then I realized… that I was hurting my best friend," her voice cracked. "And I missed you."

His eyes were so kind, so open, so intent on her words… She reached up and gently ran her finger along the edge of his bottom lip, her voice shaking. "But I also ached for you… I…. I ache for you…." Her eyes felt wet, but she didn't care if Daryl saw her tears. She was brave now.

A/N – I don't know if I was able to get this across, but I really wanted to make it crystal clear that Lilly is a bit of an emotional cripple. And I loved the idea of having Daryl be the one who needs to clear the air, upending the standard scene that involves "getting Daryl to talk about his feelings." Not that I'm knocking that. I adore Daryl as the relationship novice when it's done well…

And fasten your seatbelts, folks! The REALLY smutty stuff is coming up in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – Sorry it's taken me so long to post this chapter. My original plan to write the whole story from Lilly's point of view was kicking my ass from here to next Tuesday. Everything I came up with just made me cringe. All serious smut, with none of the funny – which just seemed way off, given the flow of the first two chapters. So I listened to my muse – who's a cocktease, by the way – and she told me that I needed to lock Lilly in a closet and play with Daryl for a while.. Hmmmm… playing with Daryl… And yes. Our favorite redneck is just as much fun to play with as you think he'd be. Actually, more. I had a blast writing him and that's probably why this chapter just FLOWED – like walker ooze leaking out of a good stab to the eye. Except for the verb tenses. They were a pain in my ass… Anyway, I hope you like what I came up with – I sure do.

And thanks for your kind reviews, everyone. They gave me a nice little ego boost just when I really needed some motivation to keep from bailing on the story. Now that I'm writing my own fics, I understand how important reviews are. And it's not just an ego thing. Each one is like a drip from an IV antibiotic, helping fend off the insecurity that silences my muse. That's my hyperbolic way of letting you know that each one of your reviews, follows and favorites mean the world to me. So, again. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Lilly, my potty mouth and my filthy imagination. All credit for Daryl and the brilliant series goes to AMC and Robert Kirkman. Anyway, I'm certainly not making any money off this, so nothing here for any legal ferrets to worry about.

**Chapter Three – Blind Alleys and Second Guesses **

Goddammit. He was so fucking pissed… Fuck her… Seriously. Fuck. Her! Lying to him just so she could get out of his tent? Treating him like he didn't exist? After he'd saved her fucking _life_? Fuck her! He could feel the rage building again, so he lit another cigarette and took another drink – a big one. Trying to pull his shit together before he went ahead and did something stupid. Like telling the girl exactly what he thought of her and her fucking lies… Before tossing that bottle, the cigarettes and her bitch ass out of his fucking tent…

He felt a bit calmer now. And he could hold off a little while longer. Long enough to hear what Lilly had to say for herself. And she sure as shit had something to say… Otherwise, why would she have barged into his tent, waving that 'peace offering' in his face? Yeah, she knew he was a junkie whore who couldn't turn down booze and nicotine. But did she really think it was gonna soften him up? Make him accept her apology? That they were gonna be buddies again? After the shit she pulled? _Fuck_ her!

There she was, just sitting there… Working up her nerve. Squirming… Good. Keep squirming. Not all night, because he wanted to get this over with. Wanted to throw that fucking apology back in her fucking face and go the fuck to sleep. So he'd give her another half hour. But that was it. After that, she was gonna see a whole new level of pissed off.

He'd been so fucking pissed off for the last two weeks, he didn't know any other way to be. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was just as pissed at himself. If not more… Goddammit! He'd broken all his rules. Let her into his personal zone, let her get too close, let her mess with his Zen… And she'd fucked him over. Just like people always do. _Always_. But that didn't mean he was gonna whine about getting his _feelings_ hurt like some pussy bitch. Nope. After he threw that apology back in her face, he was gonna sack up, learn from it and move the fuck on. Because, bottom line, he should have known better. He should have known that this was gonna happen.

So why hadn't he? Why hadn't he seen this coming? He'd thought a lot about that. And come to realize that the whole thing with Lilly was like a bunch of guys slowly backing him into a blind alley... And before he knows it, they're ganging up on him, giving him the beatdown of his life. One guy, who just so happened to be walking in the same direction, nothing to worry about… Another one, looking kind of shifty, nothing he couldn't handle… The third guy, looking straight at him… Then the fourth, coming right for him… Only then does he look around and find that there's no way out. He's trapped. He's fucked.

Correction. He was fucked… Laying ass-down on the concrete with the motherfucking shit kicked out of him… Because he hadn't been paying attention. He'd let Lilly get under his skin. Get inside his head. And she'd fucked him up.

And it wasn't because she was pretty. Sure, he'd noticed that right off the bat. That long, red, curly hair of hers… Pretty blue eyes… Pale, freckly skin that made him think of peaches – and he loved peaches… A bit skinny, but a tight little body and legs that went on for fucking days… And that smell of hers – kind of herbal, mixed with something a little bit sweet… Vanilla, maybe? Whatever it was, she smelled good. But hell, the world is full of… Well, it _was_ full of pretty girls that smelled good. Didn't mean he wanted to fuck them. Andrea was pretty, and she probably smelled good too, but there was no way he'd fuck her. He'd always been good at ignoring that shit, anyway. It was a point of pride, in fact. He'd never let a piece of pussy mess with his Zen before, and he sure as hell hadn't planned on letting Lilly's be the first. Particularly with all the other fucked up shit he had to worry about.

So it wasn't the way Lilly looked or smelled, exactly. It was something else. More like a series of fucked up little moments that piled up on him. Moments when something would shift and he'd see her in a different way. Just a flash, a passing thought… And then he'd brush it off and go back to thinking about her like he always had. Until he couldn't anymore.

It had started with stupid, trifling things. Obvious things. Like that time he'd taken her out hunting, three or so days after he'd first brought her back to camp. The last thing he'd wanted was company, particularly from some girl he barely knew. But she'd bribed him with three cigarettes and he'd given in like the junkie whore she'd turned him into. Anyway, they'd come across this stream and Lilly had bent down to scoop up some water to wash her face and cool off. Nothing out of the ordinary. He'd been about to do the same thing, in fact. Until he got an eyeful that stopped him dead in his tracks. Holy fucking Jesus, the way those shorts rode up the crack of her ass… Her thighs, all smooth and taut… And one of those flashes had popped into his head… Of taking her from behind, just fucking the shit out of her like a jackhammer... Which, of course, meant he'd popped an instant boner. Which twitched and almost jumped out of his pants when she stood up with that satisfied grin on her face… Water dripping down her face, her neck… into that white tank top…

He hadn't been ashamed of his reaction, at least not after he'd broken up the party in his pants and reassured himself that she'd been none the wiser. Hell, that sight would have pitched a tent in any man's pants. So he'd brushed it off. He was a healthy, red-blooded man… Lilly had a fine ass… He hadn't been able to jerk off since she'd schemed her way into his tent… So he'd pushed it aside and resolved never to look at her ass again. And later on, after dinner, he'd strolled into the woods and taken matters into his own hands. So to speak.

Same thing with the way she felt the need to stretch first thing every morning, giving him an eyeful of those gorgeous tits of hers. Just the right size, with pointy nipples sharp enough to poke holes through that ratty t-shirt she slept in. The first time he'd seen her do that, he'd had another one of those flashes. This time of his face buried in her tits, her nipples in his mouth, her moaning… And he'd handled it the same way. He was a healthy man and Lilly had a nice set of tits. He'd find a little quiet time in the woods and make sure to stay clear during her morning stretch. It was no big deal and he was moving on.

Now, that time when she'd been painting her toenails some god-awful orange color, contorting her legs into that weird position… While he'd just sat there, gawping at her while pretending to look at a map… And that other time, when he'd gotten weirdly pissed off at that little curl that escaped her bun, how it got to kiss the back of her neck when he couldn't… Maybe he had some kind of latent foot fetish and hell, he'd always liked a pretty neck. Regardless, he'd just made a point not to look at those body parts anymore. Problem solved. Easy.

The honey incident was different. That one hadn't been so easy to come back from. They were friends by then, so it wasn't like he could have avoided looking at her face. He'd had no idea how much trouble he was in for when he overheard Lilly talking to Maggie about Tupelo honey, how she loved it more than chocolate. So farmer's daughter had to go ahead and give her a little jar from last season's harvest. Later that night, she'd torn into the stuff and… well… she'd basically fellated that honey right in front of him! Holy fuck… He'd never known that it was possible to suck off a condiment. Until he saw her do it, that is. The way she'd licked that spoon… All kinds of slow… Her cheeks hollowed out… The pop when she pulled the spoon out of her mouth… There was no way a heterosexual man... Hell, even a homo, could have watched that spectacle and not imagined it was his dick. And any man who could? Well, he didn't deserve to have a dick.

And that look on her face… Like she'd been on the verge of the most private orgasm ever. Thank God her eyes had been closed so she hadn't seen him pull his jacket over his lap. Or his face as the perviest of pervy thoughts swirled around his pervy little brain, wondering if that was what she looked like when she masturbated… Which, of course, had led to a number of other questions. Namely, whether or not, when, where, how and how often she masturbated…

When Lilly had offered him a spoonful, cornflower blue eyes all wide and innocent, pointy little tongue darting out to catch the bit that had smeared the corner of her mouth… All he'd been able to do was sputter, "don't like the stuff," before hightailing it out of the tent like his dick was on fire. Because it had been. He'd stalked around those woods for a good hour trying to figure out if she'd been fucking with him on purpose, before coming to the conclusion that the girl was clueless. First of all, she was too ballsy and in-your-face to pull something that sneaky on him. And anyway, she'd been his friend back then – and a friend wouldn't deliberately give him the most painful erection of his life. But now, he wasn't so sure… Maybe she had done it on purpose. Regardless, the whole experience had been a motherfucking cocktease. Even after he'd jerked off, he'd still been too keyed up to go back to camp, taking out the rest of his sexual frustration out on those three walkers. By stabbing them in the head! God, you people are sick…

But all that had been pretty straightforward. Basic, fifth-grade sex-ed stuff. Healthy male plus pretty female equals increased blood flow to the penis. No big deal. Until she got inside his head and fucked with his Zen. Like that time they'd traded stories about how they'd popped their cherries. And the flash of pure, burning rage he'd felt after she told him about the asshole who got to her first. Going in dry, causing her a hell of a lot more pain than necessary, and bragging about it at school the next day. But chances are that the asshole had already died a painful death. So why had he wanted to hunt the fucker down to make sure of it? And why the flash of panic when she told him about her old boyfriend, Colin? And the relief as she told him she'd seen the guy taken down by a walker? By her account, he sounded like a pretty decent guy. Maybe because the name 'Colin' made him think of some suit-wearing, Bieber-haired asswipe who worked in an office, liked to talk about his 'feelings' and played Ultimate Frisbee in his spare time?

Nope. If he was being honest with himself, that wasn't it. Somehow, when he wasn't paying attention, Lilly had turned him into a jealous tool. Like that time he saw Shane checking out her ass. And it was a fine ass. An ass to which he had absolutely no claim. An ass that any healthy, red-blooded man would gawk at. So there was no logical reason as to why he should hate the man so much, right? So why was it that every time that asshole so much as talked to her, even looked at her. Even now… He imagined one of his bolts sticking out of the middle of the fucker's forehead? And it's not like Lilly even liked the guy. She always called him the 'douchiest of douchebags.' She'd even made up a little song about his, Lori and Rick's 'arrangement,' sung to the tune of the theme song for that old TV show, Three's Company. Damn… That girl had a fucked up sense of humor. Used to make him laugh so hard, even brought tears to his eyes a couple of times... Merle would love her. He wouldn't care that she was a fucking bitch…

But even the jealousy stuff hadn't been a big deal. He'd brushed it off, rationalized it as some kind of primal, caveman instinct triggered by the shrinking pool of available women. Combined with the fact that he'd wanted to protect her. She _was_ a girl. And she'd been a pretty good friend too.

Before she'd fucked him over, Lilly had been the best friend he'd ever had. And that still surprised the hell out of him. First of all, she was a girl. And most girls were a pain in the ass. And second, he'd never put much stock in friendship. Of course, there had been a few guys he'd meet at the bar or joke around with at work, and he supposed he would have called them friends. But as a general rule, he preferred his own company. Because people sucked. Being by yourself simplified things, meant you never had to figure out someone's angle, wait for them to put one over on you, or fuck you in the ass when you dropped the soap. He should have remembered that…

But even if they weren't friends anymore, Lilly still knew him inside out. Something about her – maybe the girl thing – had made him feel comfortable telling her shit he'd never told another living soul. Even after learning shit he'd been sure would send her screaming into the woods, like all that fucked up shit with his family… Even after hearing about all that, she'd seemed to like him fine. Hell, she'd once told him that he was, "better than all the pansy-ass motherfuckers around camp put together." That was the nicest thing anybody ever said to him. Ever. He'd liked hearing that more than he would ever admit… And he'd believed her at the time. But now? There was no way she meant that. Because if she had, she wouldn't have fucked him over.

For a while there, she'd even found a way to make him look at himself differently. It was kind of creepy how she'd managed to get in his head and rearrange shit like she had… Like making him think that he wasn't as fucked in the head as he'd thought he was. That his particular brand of fucked in the head didn't mean he was fucked up, generally speaking, so he only deserved fucked up things... More like he had this fucked up filter in his brain that only made him _think_ he was fucked up and only deserved fucked up things… Fuck… Every time he stepped out of his fucked up head to think about it, he got a fucking headache… So he didn't anymore.

He was also thinking about that time she'd caught him changing his shirt and her reaction to her scars. She hadn't freaked out. Hadn't looked disgusted or given him those pity eyes. Seemed to accept them, like they weren't the only things she saw when she looked at him. She'd actually told him that they were part of him. That he was stronger than them, stronger because of them… Of course, he'd told her to fuck off and that she didn't know shit. But he'd thought on what she said. A lot. Even started to believe it. Started to not feel so self-conscious. But now? He figured she'd just put her game face on. Acted like his back wasn't the most disgusting thing she ever saw. And said all that shit because she felt bad for him…

It was just easier to forget everything she'd ever told him. Because she was full of shit. She'd run a game on him, making him think she was honest, same as him. Someone who stepped up and owned their shit, owned their words. So he'd believed her. Felt comfortable telling her all that shit. Felt like he could talk to her about anything, really. No need to pussyfoot around her because she knew that telling a person something straight up, no mixer or chaser, was a sign of respect. And it had been nice not having to watch every single word he said because she might take it wrong and get her feelings hurt. Not needing to analyze every single thing she said for hidden stuff. But now? He doubted every single thing she'd ever told him. Hated that she knew all that shit about him. Wished he'd kept his distance…

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Still sitting there. Squirming. Figuring out how she'd apologize. Well, whatever she came up with, there was no way he'd buy it. He trusted her just about as far as he could throw her. Which he might do when it came time to kick her out of his tent. Wait… She just tossed out her cigarette… Capped the bottle… She was gearing up for it… and looking really nervous. Good. Wait… What was she doing…

Did she just kiss him?

What the _fuck_?

A/N – I told you my muse was a cocktease, didn't I? I know I promised you the smutty smut but she thinks you're too eager and need to wait a bit. It is coming, though. I promise. And at least some of it will be in Daryl's POV, which I always find to be rather titillating. If you like that sort of thing, check out my Patsy Cline piece, which contains several chapters of Daryl's first-person stream of consciousness. And let me know what you think! Did you have as much reading this as I did writing it? Remember, reviews are important, particularly to insecure wordsmiths like myself...


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Admit it. Some of you thought I bailed on this story, didn't you? I didn't. I won't. I promise. I have to finish this story, if for no other reason than to make sure Daryl and Lilly get laid. If anyone deserves it, it's these two… But I am sorry this has taken so long. I could give you a raft of excuses about writer's block, problems synching up this chapter with Lilly's POV in chapter two, Spring and my need to tiptoe through the tulips… But I won't. Okay, I just did… **

**I just hope this chapter's length (5,026 words) and the fact that there's a second part to it (almost finished and coming soon) make up for the wait. Yup. You heard that right. While Lilly only needed one chapter for this sequence, everyone's favorite angsty, neurotic redneck needed two long ones. A lot going on in that guy's head, people. And he just wouldn't shut the fuck up! But he needed to get it all out. And I think he needs a hug, too…**

**Last but by no means least, I have to give a shout out and huge thanks to deadgirlwriting, Alva Starr and HaloHunter89 for their advice and guidance. Check out their stuff – it's brilliant! And thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and/or followed this story. IV****-****muse****-****words on the screen that I like enough to let you read.**

**Warning – Some smut coming up. Not super smutty, but filthy enough to inspire a few tingles. If I'm doing my job that is... And those of you under the age of 18? Turn off your computer right now and go take a virginity pledge. Too late? Well, go study Calculus or something…**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Lilly, my potty mouth and my filthy imagination. All credit for Daryl and the brilliant series goes to AMC and Robert Kirkman. Anyway, I'm certainly not making any money off this, so nothing here for any legal ferrets to worry about.**

**Chapter Four – The Knockout Punch (Part One)**

Daryl froze. He couldn't move a muscle. Other than look at her, just sitting there. Eyeballing him like she was expecting some kind of reaction... Like he was capable of doing anything other than listen to the voice in his head that screamed, '_what in the fucking hell just happened_?' Of course, now that it had sunk in that she had, indeed, kissed him, he was now realizing what she _hadn't_ done. Apologize. In fact, after he grabbed the bottle from her, she hadn't said one fucking word to him. Just that kiss. But why? Why did she kiss him? Why would sh-

Wait… He knew what she was doing. He knew exactly why she'd kissed him. She was trying to distract him. Hell, she'd been distracting him since day one, waggling her tits and ass in his face, confusing the shit out of him. If he wasn't so pissed off, he would have laughed out loud as a Jack Daniels-fueled scene played out in his head:

**Lilly** – "Hey Daryl! Look! Look at my ass!"

**Daryl** – "What? No… Too busy. Gotta go… carve some new bolts…"

**Lilly** – "C'mon Daryl! Right here! My ass! And my tits, too! Look at them! Don't pay any mind to what I'm really doing. Come on, I know you want to watch me fellate this honey while I tell you that you're better than all of those pansy-ass motherfuckers put together."

**Daryl** – "Really? You think so? Oh… There they are… And you're… Damn. I tried not to look, but you said something nice so I forgot about the not looking. And now I find myself looking at your body, wishing I was a condiment, my brain clouded with all kinds of pervy thoughts."

**Lilly** – Stifles an evil laugh and mutters to herself, "that stupid fucker is too easy… Now that his ego's all fluffed, hypnotized by my tits and ass, not paying attention… He's distracted and wide open. Time to get under the redneck's skin and set up camp in his head. Now I will proceed to fuck shit _up_ in there. Oh, there's his Zen! Looking all kinds of serene… It's go time, motherfucker."

She was a master at the game. Could teach classes on it or write a book… "Tits, Ass and Sweet Talk – How to Distract Rednecks and Fuck With Their Heads." With chapters on stretching and bending over, sucking off condiments. Followed by another on erections as a tool to divert blood flow from the brain. Then the ones on making a man tell you everything, using flattery to make him think he's worth something, laughter as a vehicle to make him let down his guard. A long one on the art of making a man soft so he doesn't see you get under his skin and mess with his Zen. Don't forget the one on jealousy as a mind fuck. Oh, and the final chapter – taking off and fucking him over.

And now it seems she's working on her follow-up book, "Booze, Nicotine and Playing the Girl Card – How to Make a Redneck Forget Everything." Thinks she can bribe him… Wear that dress, leave her hair down, smell so good… Kiss him… Thinks she can make him forget how she left him ass-down on the concrete with the motherfucking shit kicked out of him. Forget that she owed him a goddamn apology so he could turn around and spit it back in her fucking face. Yup. She was in for a real treat when it came time for him to review _that_ fucking book-

"I'm sorry," she blurted out.

Okay... That was an apology. Which didn't mean shit, because she didn't even have the guts to look at him. Nope. Not nearly good enough. "What are you sorry about? That you kissed me? Or that you've been a fucking bitch to me for the last two weeks?"

"That I've been such a bitch," she said quietly, her voice cracking on the last word.

Fucking hell… Was she gonna start crying on him? He barely registered that she'd admitted to being a bitch. His mind was too busy trying to figure out how to get past her and out of his tent without touching her. Just the thought of her breaking down in tears before he could escape was starting to make him panic…

Hold up… This might be another trick of hers. Just another way to make him soft, make him go easy on her. Whenever one of Merle's skanks had started crying – and most of them did at one point or another – he'd always laugh it off with his standard, "bitches only get wet when they want something from you, little brother. Wet pussy when they want your dick, tears when they want your balls."

Well, fuck that shit. She already had his Zen. No way he was gonna hand over his balls and let her run him out of his tent. After everything she'd put him through, she was gonna cough up some fucking answers. But in case he was wrong… Well, he didn't want to be a total dick. Daryl tried to keep his voice level as he asked, "why?"

Lilly stared down at her hands for a while before lifting her eyes and looking at him. Damn… She looked fucking terrified. Of him. Fucking hell! Sure, he'd been sitting there stewing in a sea of pissed off. Even thought about picking her up and dragging her kicking and screaming from his tent. But Jesus fucking Christ! Did she really think he'd hit her? That he was that guy? He'd grown up watching his Pa beat the shit out of every woman stupid enough to shack up with him. First his Ma and then a series of whores who never stuck around longer than a few weeks. And he'd made a promise to himself that he would never lay a hand on a girl. And he'd kept it. He'd never hit a woman and he never would. Didn't matter how much she fucked him over.

After a few moments, she finally answered. "Things changed for me and I didn't know how to handle it. I freaked out."

Her voice was so muted and the rush of words came so quickly, he almost missed what she was saying. So it was a good thing they bounced around his head a few times, giving him a chance to hear them on the third pass. He got the freaked out bit. Yup. She'd freaked out on him, all right. If that's what she wanted to call lying to his face just so she could get out of his tent. Ignoring him and acting like a fucking bitch. Sure, he'd go along with that. And he supposed that freaking out could be the result of her not knowing how to handle… 'it.' Whatever the fuck 'it' was… She had to be referring to something that had changed. A big change. One that had freaked her out so much that she couldn't sleep in his tent, talk to him, or even be around him. A change that must have happened two weeks ago, right around the time she started treating him like a fucking leper…

Daryl's heart sank. The burning rage that had kept it afloat just gone. Because he suddenly realized exactly what 'it' was. 'It' was his biggest fear. The fear that bubbled up whenever he'd allowed himself to wonder why she'd shut him down like she had. The fear he'd push back down because taking a good look at it would make it real. But now it was staring him in the face, confirmed by the words that just came out of her mouth.

Lilly had seen it. She'd seen him. He'd been so scared that he would lose her to a walker and then to that fucking tree branch. So scared that he'd dropped his guard and let her see how he felt about her. Let her see that he wanted her. And, of course, she'd found the very idea of him and what he wanted so disgusting that she took off on him.

But if she couldn't handle what he'd been stupid enough to let her see… Why was she here? Now he was really confused. If seeing what he wanted sickened her… Why would she kiss him? Even if she was just trying to distract him, why would she bother? Why would she come to his tent with that 'peace offering,' kiss him and apologize?

And what kind of kiss was that, anyway? He couldn't tell a goddamn thing from that kiss… Making sure to keep his voice blank, Daryl broke the tense silence. "Kiss me again."

Lilly looked at him for a moment, puzzled, before she started grinning at him. Fuck, she was looking at him like a spoonful of Tupelo honey…

Daryl forgot about being pissed off as she moved closer to him, stroked his neck, cupped his cheek. Her lips grazed his… he was starting to understand. Another press of her lips… clearer now. And another press, firm enough to almost pull a response from him… absolutely crystal. Holy fuck, that was a kiss.

He wasn't confused anymore. Not a bit. She was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that she knew exactly what she was doing. That she wanted to be doing it. And that she wanted a reaction from him. Which she got, despite his attempt to suppress the shudder that raced down his spine when her tongue lightly stroked his lip…

Hold the fucking phone… He wasn't gonna make this easy. She was gonna have to work a little harder for… well, whatever the hell it was that she wanted from him. Because he still didn't know why she was kissing him. He tried to keep his voice level as he demanded, "again."

"Are you gonna kiss me back this time?" she asked, with the smug grin she always threw him when she'd figured something out before he did.

Damn… He'd missed that cocky way she had about her. Even though he was still pissed, that swagger of hers, the one that said she wasn't gonna bow down to him or anyone else, was sexy as hell. And he was starting to get a bit worked up just thinking about what else she might have in store for him. Even if it was a distraction, he was starting not to give a fuck. He did a shitty job of hiding his own smirk as he answered her, "dunno. Inspire me…"

But the way she laughed wiped the smirk off his face. And the way she was looking at him made him feel like a five-point buck… and she was about ready to let loose a clean shot that she knew, without a doubt, would take him down. Fuck. This wasn't sexy anymore. If he was being honest with himself, that level of cocky was scaring the shit out of him. And weirdly enough, making his dick hard at the same time…

Before he could make sense of _that_, Lilly leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. Oh… Man. She wasn't playing anymore. His heart started to race as she pressed her body against his and dragged her fingernails lightly across his scalp… He tried not to move as he felt her shift even closer… Tried not to inhale as he caught a whiff of the grassy, vanilla scent he'd missed so much… Tried not to respond as her soft lips kissed his forehead, dragged down his cheek, across his jaw… Tried not to shudder at the tingle left in the wake of her slow, teasing lips and the tickle of her curls against his neck… Tried to hold on to his last shred of self-control as her touch, her smell and her closeness overwhelmed his senses…

And finally let go as everything that was Lilly took over, effectively narrowing his whole world until there was only her. Her lips, her tongue, her body, her smell, her skin. There was no room in his head for anything other than now, this moment. Kissing her, feeling her sink into him… It was too much and still not enough… He pushed her back onto the blankets and covered her with his body. Fuck… The way her softness molded around him… The way she moaned and shivered at his touch…

This was a Lilly he'd never seen before. Never even imagined during all his quiet time in the woods. And the little corner of his brain that wasn't currently overwhelmed with lust, the part of him that was still so fucking angry at her for making him feel weak... It cooled off a little. Because the assertive, take-no-shit girl he thought he knew so well… She was surrendering control to him. Giving it back to him.

He felt one of her legs wrap around his hip, making room for the pressure and heat he could feel building in his cock… As soon as she pushed into him, his need took over and he thrust into her. Goddammit, she felt so fucking good and he just wanted _inside_… "Good God, Lilly," he groaned, not even realizing he'd said anything until he recognized the lust-thickened voice as his own. He dove into her neck and willed himself to stop moving, to pull back from losing himself. And he started to get angry again.

Daryl took several breaths as he tried to process what the fuck was happening. Struggled to suppress every instinct in his body that was screaming at him to rip off their clothing, remove every last barrier between them and get _in_ there… Why the fuck not? He wanted her! Goddammit, he'd never wanted anything so bad in his fucking life!

He'd been wanting this, wanting her, ever since that first fucked up dream… Weird as hell, but still the sexiest fucking dream he'd ever had... He'd been a tree and Lilly a dryad. And she'd taken real good care of his wood. Several times. But then he'd woken up with a real case of wood trying to bury itself in her ass. And spent the next morning acting like he didn't see the smirk she did a piss poor job of hiding.

But this wasn't a dream. This was real. Lilly wanted him _and_ his wood. And judging by the way she was grinding on him, she wanted it bad…

So why was his brain cockblocking him? Maybe it was because, for the last two weeks she hadn't let him within five feet of her, but now was all over him? That time he snuck up behind her to get a bottle of water just to mess with her didn't count… Was it because she'd been acting like she hated him, but now wanted him to fuck her? Was it because he'd finally gotten used to her not being around, but now she was closer to him than ever before?

What the _fuck_ was she doing to him? He pulled back to look at her and whispered angrily, "why are you jumping my bones like this when I'm so fucking pissed at you?"

She started to answer, "I was scared… I didn't know how-" Then suddenly stopped and glared at him, the frustration in her eyes amplified by an exasperated groan. She wrapped her other leg around his waist, ground against him and hissed, "Jesus Christ, just shut up and kiss me!"

The need in her voice, the want in her eyes, the way she pushed into his cock… stopped him dead in his tracks. This was the Lilly he knew… Getting straight to the point. Demanding what she wanted. And it worked. Effectively silencing the little voice in his head that questioned her motives, tried to make sense of what she was doing, fought like hell not to lose control. Hell, that voice was gagged, bound and stuffed in the back of a dark closet.

There was only Lilly. Here. Wanting him.

Daryl had spent so many times jerking off in the woods, had so many dreams, endured so many sleepless nights… imagining what it would be like to kiss her until she was breathless… To have her under him, writhing… To feel her hands on him, stroking… To smell her scent and root out its source… To taste her skin, warm and soft under his tongue… To touch, lick, suck and bite all those secret places and make her moan… To feel her legs wrapped around him, squeezing… To dive in deep and feel her wet, tight heat grip his cock… To hear her scream his name until she was hoarse…

Every time he'd surrender to one of those fantasies… he knew, deep down, that he was being a weak ass punk. But he'd still allow it, telling himself that there was no harm in giving in every once in a while. Afterwards, he'd feel a little bit of shame for the pervy thoughts he was having about his best friend. But then he'd brush it off as the byproduct of spending so much time around a pretty girl, then go about his business. He wasn't hurting anyone, and hell, indulging himself every once in a while helped him let off some steam. And if thinking about her naked helped keep him sharp, he could also chalk it up to self-preservation.

He'd spent so much time explaining away his lust, he hadn't been paying attention. Hadn't noticed as it grew and took over. How could it not? Triggered and fed by her always being around, all the fucking time... Every time he saw her, smelled her, heard her voice, felt her touch him… And before he knew it, he'd developed this _craving_ for her, one that had pretty much taken over everything. To the point where he planned his days around getting just a little bit of her. Just enough to take the edge off… just a little… fix.

And now? He was no better than Merle on his first day home after a court-ordered two-week spell in rehab. And Lilly was waving a huge baggie of the purest _her_ in his face, begging him to smoke up.

So fuck it! If she didn't want him to talk, he wasn't gonna talk. If she wanted him to kiss her, he was gonna kiss her. If she wanted him to fuck her, he was gonna fuck her.

Finally…

He was a junkie whore and no longer gave a flying fuck about reining in his urges. He was gonna give in to every single goddamned one of them. He was gonna go on the bender of all benders…

Daryl plunged in. Grabbing her legs and hiking them up, he pushed into her… Just a hint of her juicy heat enough to make him painfully hard, but she felt so good against his cock he didn't care. The frantic removal of his shirt, her greedy fingers all over his back and arms, the sound of her whimpers and hitched breaths… The insane need to get her out of that fucking dress and bra… get at her flesh, her tits… touch and taste her skin… make her moan, shiver and groan his name again…

This was the real thing. This was Lilly… This was her skin, her heat, her touch… This was her smell, her taste, her sound… This was hot, panting, sweaty, moaning, writhing Lilly. This was an enormous, luscious, delicious banquet filled with everything he'd ever wanted from her… And he was fucking _ravenous_, every taste just making him want more of her… Fuck… He'd never felt this kind of insane, uncontrollable, overwhelming, his dick was about to explode _need_…

He felt her fingers on his stomach, then her hand as it reached down his pants. Jesus fucking Christ… He groaned loudly at the feel of her fingers wrapped around his cock… He hadn't felt anybody else's hand on him for two years or so? Not since that girl… Melody… no, Marcie... Whatever the fuck her name was, the way she talked to his dick in that creepy-ass baby voice gave him such a bad case of shrivel dick, he hadn't been able to jerk off for a month.

But the way Lilly was touching him… Didn't even come close to his fantasies. This wasn't his pervy little brain and his lonely little hand. This was Lilly and her warm, soft fingers… Somehow knowing exactly how to touch him, tease him… He still had trouble wrapping his brain around the reality of her hand down his pants. And the reality of her very real fingers… Around his very real cock… Was really going to make him shoot his very real load… In his pants. Really.

He reached down and yanked her hand away, then rolled on to his back and took several deep breaths… Trying like hell to pull back the rush of his orgasm through sheer force of will. That wasn't working. He imagined sticking his dick into a block of ice… Too wet. Sandpaper… Too much friction. He thought of that lady walker he'd shot two days ago. Okay… That was working. She'd looked just like the skank who gave Merle three STDs in one embarrassingly loud fuckfest that had kept him up all night. The stupid bitch had also wrecked their toilet. The thing never worked quite right after that…

Blood flow to his dick now reversed, the wheels in Daryl's brain started turning again. Lubricated by the anger that crept back in… What the hell? Lilly shuts him down and won't let him near her for two weeks, then comes waltzing into his tent like a fucking succubus? There was no way in hell he was going to lose himself to her again. Which is exactly what was gonna happen if he let her drag him by his dick back into that blind alley. The memory of being flat on his back with the shit kicked out of him was too vivid. And something told him that, this time, he wouldn't be getting up again.

But if she made him come in his pants? Hell, he'd prefer an ass-kicking to that kind of humiliation. He remembered Lyle, that weird kid from his tenth-grade homeroom class and that time Wendy Whateverthefuckherlastnamewas read that e.e. cummings poem in English class. Poor fucker came in his pants and never lived it down. So when Daryl ran into him a couple years back, the sight of him wearing one of those Renaissance Fair costumes, hair and beard long and matted and smelling like rancid patchouli... Well, he hadn't been surprised to see him like that. Not a bit.

He grimaced at the idea of having to face her after something so embarrassing. He muttered, making sure it was loud enough for her to hear, "I didn't just go through two weeks of bitch hell to come in my pants…"

Daryl looked over and saw Lilly cross her arms over her head and take several deep breaths of her own. After a few minutes, she pulled up her dress and looked at him, eyes flooded with something he couldn't quite place. She whispered, "I am a bitch. I don't blame you for hating me…"

He froze, all thoughts of embarrassing himself gone as he heard the misery in her voice and realized what he'd seen in her eyes. Self-loathing. And it shocked the hell out of him. He knew that feeling. Hell, while his Pa was still alive, he swam in that shit… Still took a dip in the pool every once in a while for old time's sake. But Lilly? The girl who would always give him a verbal punch to the gut every time she even got a whiff of it off him? The girl who'd had to do some fucked up shit since the world went to shit, but had figured out a way to fit it all together into a neat, seamless package that made sense and let her sleep at night? Not that he blamed her for killing those fuckers. Shit, if he could, he'd resurrect, re-castrate and peel the skin off the guys who tried to rape her, along with that fucker from her old camp who traded her to them for a bottle of peach schnapps and a case of Spaghettios…

It suddenly occurred to him that maybe none of this had been about her trying to distract him, get under his skin or fuck with his head. Because the look on her face told him she felt responsible for everything that had happened. That she hated herself for it – more than he ever had. Although he still felt raw from everything she'd put him through, he had to say something. Take some of the weight that was crushing her. "Jesus Christ, Lilly… I don't hate you. Whole thing is still fucked up and it's gonna take me a while to get over being pissed… But I think I get it…"

And he realized it was true. He didn't hate her anymore. And he was sick of hating himself. Sick of trying to figure out what happened. Sick of trying to act like he didn't care about her taking off on him. And he was so fucking tired… Tired of being pissed off. Tired of feeling weak. Tired of missing her. He was sick and tired of the anger, the rage and… all the bullshit.

Goddammit, they needed to have this out. He waited, hoping Lilly would activate her girlie superpowers and kick off this conversation about _feelings_… Just the thought of what was coming made him cringe. Talking things out had never solved shit for him before, but he knew deep down that they needed to clear the air.

He glanced over to see what was taking her so long, but that one look told him that she didn't have it in her. She was a fucking wreck. Eyes filled with so much fear and guilt, he was tempted to drop the whole thing. But then he'd be back to square one – pissed and confused. Except now, he'd have to add guilt to the mix…

Fucking hell… He'd have to be the one to start. Because Lilly sure as shit wasn't gonna do it. All she seemed to be good for was jumping his bones and freaking the fuck out. He had trouble saying it aloud, but he managed to force out a whisper, "it was the day your leg got cut, right?" before rolling on to his side to face her.

As soon as he saw her expression, even with her eyes squeezed shut, he felt that sinking feeling again. He'd been right. It was that day. That walker coming at her and that fucking tree branch… his reaction to it… letting her see it… That's what had changed everything between them. She rolled over to face him, grabbed his hand and nodded. Those blue eyes of hers now open and filled with something that looked like gratitude… Like she was thanking him for saying what she couldn't… He felt his own measure of self-loathing. He'd let her take all the blame, all the rage and all the anger he'd thrown at her. But she'd stayed there in his tent. Stayed and tried to fix something that had been his own fucking fault. And, deep down, he'd known it but let her do it anyway. Fuck it all to hell… If she had the balls to come to his tent and face all that, face him… Goddammit. He needed to man up and admit to lighting the match that set the fire… that fucked everything up between them.

Well, at least there was something that they agreed on. That day in the woods. That tree branch. Her near death and his reaction. At least that was something real that he could grab on to, some kind of leverage to pull them out of this mess. He took a deep breath and said, "I thought you shut me down… Because… Because I… Whatever…" Goddammit… His brain had seized up on him. He didn't have a clue how to tell her that the whole clusterfuck was his fault.

He was still hoping Lilly would take over and help him out when she spoke up. "I've already established that I'm a dumbass, Daryl. I don't understand what you're saying…" Oh, shit… The tightness in her voice made it clear that she was trying her hardest not to cry. He hoped she'd continue to keep it together. Because if she started with the tears, there was no way in hell he'd be able to say what he needed to say.

Daryl took a couple of deep breaths and tried looking away, hoping that would help her pull her shit together. "When you were gushing blood out there in the woods, when that walker almost got you… I fucking lost it. I…" Goddammit. His words weren't coming out right. "Fuck… I can't do this shit, Lilly…"

"You think I'm any better at this stuff?" Lilly's shoulders shook as she tried to hold back her laughter. Good thing he'd moved his tent away from the others, but her laugh could still wake the dead. Actually, it had a few times. Which was why he always picked a fight with her right before they went on a run together. A quiet, pissed off Lilly was better than a dead Lilly.

But now, it was kind of nice to see her laugh. Another thing he'd missed… And he couldn't help joining her, because the idea of her being able to talk about something that had sent her running for the hills only two weeks ago… Well, it was kind of hilarious. He snorted as he replied, "yeah… I guess you're right." Hell, the whole situation was too fucked up not to laugh. The same universe that brought dead people back to life had also sent him a chick who was even worse at this emotional shit than he was. And he'd ended up falling for her.

Wait…

**A/N – Duh, duh, duh…. Any guesses on how Daryl will process this new knowledge? Well, you won't have to wait too long – the second part of this chapter is almost finished and should be up in about a week. **

**And please drop me a review and let me know what you think. Did I keep him in character? Honestly, one of my biggest worries in writing Daryl is that, by taking him out of his packaging and playing with him like I do, I end up turning him into an OOC Ken doll. Well, a broody Ken doll with a dick and a potty mouth…. **

**Hold up – I just remembered this hilarious tumblr page I recently found called Adventures of Tiny Daryl. Check it out and thank me later. With a REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – I'm back, bitches! Just in time for the Season Five Premiere! Actually, you're not bitches. You're lovely people for sticking with me, even though I reneged on my promise that this chapter would only take a week. What can I say, my muse is a flighty cocktease and our public school system deems it necessary to give those short people summers off school. But I've decided to stop feeling bad about it, because that pressure is partly to blame for the writer's block that held up this chapter. So here's my new mantra: I'll write when I have time and am moved to do so, and I'll post when I feel I have something that's good enough for you to read. And no more promises, other than to reassure you that I WILL finish this piece, Lilly and Daryl WILL consummate, and those of you who stick around will be glad that you did. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Lilly, my potty mouth and my filthy imagination. All credit for Daryl and the brilliant series goes to AMC and Robert Kirkman. And Norman Reedus, of course, whose portrayal of Daryl turns all of us into horndogs... Anyway, I'm certainly not making any money off this, so nothing here for any legal ferrets to worry about.**

**Chapter Five – The Knockout Punch (Part Two)**

All of Daryl's senses shut down. The sound of Lilly's laughter muffled by the pump and gush of his stuttering heart as it struggled to find a new rhythm. His vision dimmed, blending the flickering shadows in his tent until all he could see was a shifting mess of dull, hazy shadows that marked where she lay on her side, facing him. And the tangled mess of guilt, lust, fear and shock scurried to the far corners of his brain, knowing they'd better make room for the badass motherfucker who'd just strolled into town. Because this new guy had something to say and he wasn't fucking around.

He'd fallen for Lilly.

And Daryl knew he could play around with that for a while. He could analyze the shit out of why his brain had chosen those particular words and what each one meant. He could chew all the flavor out of them, leaving a tasteless mess in his mouth that he'd only choke on when it came time to swallow. So why bother? The underlying meaning was clear. He was in love with the girl. Okay. Pretty straightforward… He was in love with Lilly. Okay… He loved Lilly.

Now it was time to freak out.

The FUCK?

What did that word even _mean_? Daryl had never been in _love_ before. He'd never _wanted_ to be in love. Hell, he'd always thought the whole thing was a fucking _myth_. A bunch of romantic bullshit women pulled out of their asses because they couldn't own up to their need for dick. So they had to pretty it up, make it smell better because they needed some guy to stick around and help them raise babies. That's how they justified it, by creating this fantasyland filled with rainbows, unicorns and pink glitter, then slapping a sign at the entrance – 'LOVE.' And if you wanted a ticket to go on the rides, the price of admission was calling it whatever the hell she wanted you to call it. Hell, he'd even met a few guys who loved the rides so much, they'd managed to convince themselves that they loved rainbows, unicorns and pink glitter as well.

But he'd never done that. He'd never needed to lie to himself or anybody else to get laid. And back when he had the energy and time to scratch that itch, he'd always made a point to only get his dick wet with the rare few who were honest about their own need for a good scratch. And run in the opposite direction as soon as one of them tried to complicate it with feelings and shit. But now he was the one with… feelings…

Jesus fucking Christ.

Before Lilly came along, his approach to sex was about as basic as it got. He was a man with urges. Period. End of story. But this thing with Lilly wasn't an urge. It wasn't lust… Okay. It _was_ lust. If fantasizing about her naked for the last two months wasn't pure, all-consuming lust, he didn't know what was. But if that was _all_ this was, he'd be balls deep in her by now. Hell, judging by the way she was all over his dick, he could have fucked her six ways past Sunday and into the next _week_ by now. And his dick still wanted to. _He_ still wanted to. But part of him didn't. Because he was pissed… Because he was confused… Because of his… feelings…

Fuck that bullshit.

Before, he'd never had a problem fucking a woman who confused him. Hell, every woman he'd ever known confused the _shit_ out of him, but he'd never let whatever was swirling around those brains of theirs factor into the simple act of getting laid. And being pissed wasn't a dealbreaker either. Pretty much every woman he'd ever boned said something stupid, a few making him so mad he'd wanted to gag them… But he wasn't into that kinky shit, so he'd tune them out, fuck them harder, come quicker, then get the hell out of there. Didn't make for a lot of callbacks, but that was fine with him.

Daryl wasn't a _complete_ asshole. He knew how to please a woman. And for the few who hadn't pissed him off, he'd always made a point to make sure they'd enjoyed themselves. That one chick with her jaw wired shut had even thanked him – at least that's what he'd thought she said… The fifty dollar bill she'd left on his dashboard had been a bit of a mind fuck, though…

But with Lilly? It wasn't so simple. Probably because he couldn't ignore the parts that pissed him off or made his head hurt. Couldn't fuck just the parts he wasn't mad at or confused about because… well, this was Lilly. And everything he wanted and everything that was driving him insane was all tangled together. So, basically… he was cockblocking himself. Not letting himself fuck her until he figured out what the hell happened. Until he sorted out his… feelings.

Goddammit.

Well, at least he'd figured out one thing. He'd gone and fallen for the girl. And landing had been painful, what with the way he'd ended up ass-down on the concrete with the shit kicked out of him. Love. Same fucking thing. That brutal image had only come to him after Lilly took off, leaving him bruised and battered, with a gaping hole that used to be filled with… her. In a world of hurt that had left him weak and confused. So he'd blamed the whole thing on her and stuffed that empty space with anger.

But now… Now that he knew the whole thing was his fault and she'd been taking the blame for his fuckup… Well, he couldn't be mad anymore. And now that she was back, that huge, aching void was filled to the brim again with all these… feelings.

Fucking great.

And now, Daryl had a name for these feelings. Love. What the hell else could it be? Some kind of brain tumor? An infection? That triggered some fucked-up caveman instinct that screamed, "mine!" whenever anyone or anything threatened to take Lilly from him. That sparked some pussified _hormone_ that made him want to tell her shit, made him want to know what was going on in her head. That targeted the part of his brain that controlled his dick, making it twitch like his old dog Beau whenever he caught a whiff of that possum that lived under the shed. Along with the part of his brain that held its leash, that wouldn't let it run free until he could make sense of… all these feelings.

Jesus H. Christ on a stick.

Daryl loved her. He did. Now that he'd let the word settle a bit, he was sure. And finally figuring out the word that matched his… feelings… should have settled everything down. But it didn't. That word still packed a hell of a wallop. The knockout punch, in fact. Because that word, that feeling… was wrapped around something else, something deep in his marrow.

Need. He needed her. If not back in his tent, at least somewhere in his orbit. Somewhere close, where he could see her, hear her voice, get some kind of daily fix. And that meant that he couldn't risk her taking off on him again. The empty, gaping hole she'd leave him with would wreck him. There was no way he'd be able to stuff it with anger and rage again, not if she left because he scared her off by getting all soft and letting her know about his… feelings.

Fucking fuck.

Because Daryl knew she'd take off. Hell, if the girl freaked out when she found out he wanted to fuck her, he could just imagine what she'd do if she found out that he… loved her. Lilly would lose her ever-loving shit. Probably run screaming from his tent, then throw herself into a herd of walkers.

So he'd keep that little tidbit to himself. These feelings of his would stay locked up tight within the confines of his fucked-up brain. He'd give her what she could handle – his dick – and leave it at that. As for him, he'd take whatever she was willing to give him and that would have to be enough. No need to mess up whatever this… thing between them was by running at the mouth like some touchy-feely douchebag who thinks honesty and pretty words would solve his problems. Ain't nobody had time for that kind of sentimental bullshit in this fucked up world, least of all him. Even though, now, he was the douchey fucker with all the… feelings.

Son of a bitch.

So he'd ride this bender. He'd take his seat at the banquet. Hell, he'd _be_ the banquet, just so he could have more of those greedy fingers and long legs wrapped tight around him. More of the salty, lusty sex goddess that wanted to eat him _alive._ And fuck if he wouldn't let her, because this new side to her, one he'd never even known was in there… Fuck. It set something free in him. Some kind of primal, rutting need that went _beyond_ lust…

And now that he'd _been_ there… Now that he _knew_… Her skin, what it felt like, what it tasted like. The sounds she made when he touched her just right. And those tits of hers, soft and round under his fingers, pointy nipples sharp and aching under his tongue. That warm, green smell,_ Lilly's_ smell, under all that girlie shit she washed with, the source tucked away in those soft little hollows behind her ears. And her lips, the way she'd kissed him, like she was talking to him in some new language, like she'd woken him up from a coma somehow knowing how to speak it.

Well, if he wanted another taste of all that, he was gonna have to keep a lid a lid on all of these… feelings of his.

Shit.

Daryl knew, deep down, that a taste just wasn't gonna cut it. That fucking Lilly tonight wasn't gonna do more than take the edge off this craving, was only gonna give him one piece of what he _really_ wanted.

And that was the problem. The root of it, in fact. Because he wanted all of her. The way she was, the things she'd do… All the parts of her that didn't match, but made sense because the Lilly that he had all these… fucking feelings for… simply couldn't be any other way.

That 'fuck you, I'll be as loud as I want to' snorting cackle she'd let loose whenever the mood struck her… And that comforting voice she'd used to soothe him during those nightmares after the barn, when all he could see were Sophia's dead eyes, all he could hear was Carol screaming. That stubborn insight of hers, always poking at him, making him question everything about himself… And the soft landing she gave him, that made him feel like he could sink into her and just be. The fearless bitch who never hesitated to get in his face and call him out whenever he acted like an asshole… And the close friend who still thought he was 'better than all those pansy-ass motherfuckers around camp put together.'

And then there was the reckless, nervy brat who refused to back down, barging into his tent tonight and refusing to leave... And the guilt-ridden, nervous wreck who could barely string two words together about why she'd left his tent in the first place. But no sign of the Lilly with the calm, knowing looks that told him that she already knew what he was going to say… Good thing, too, because those eyes of hers worked some kind of fucked-up magic that unleashed his tongue, got him talking about all kinds of shit, including his… feelings.

Thank fucking God.

He still needed to tell her that the whole goddamned thing had been his fault, though. But a creepy tickle in the back of his brain held him back, warning him that one misstep, one wrong word could fuck this whole thing up and scare her off again. Didn't help that the girl was twitchy as fuck tonight, but there was something else, something about the way she was with _him_. A fumbling awkwardness… almost timid, in a way. And that difference, more than anything, just floored him. He couldn't wrap his brain around it, because it just didn't fit with the brazen, fearless girl he'd been shacking up with for the last two months. Definitely not the girl who'd been shoving her tits in his face and grabbing his dick fifteen minutes ago…

But there was no mistake. She was nervous. Unsure of herself. And while that was blood in the water to someone like his brother, who'd be circling in for the kill before he'd tossed back his first drink, that kind of vulnerability would send Daryl to the other end of the bar. It had a way of setting his teeth on edge, not only because most of those girls screamed 'jailbait,' but also because they reminded him a bit too much of himself back then. Who was he kidding… That was him right now, what with how scared he was that he'd fuck up and let her know about these… feelings of his.

Fucking hell.

Despite all that, despite how Lilly was acting right now… The girl _was_ fearless. Because she was here, wasn't she? Even though she seemed to be having just as much trouble handling whatever this… _thing_ between them was… she'd still found the balls to charge into his tent to try and make things right. Hell, she had a bigger set than most guys he knew, ones that gave her the courage to face him, even though he'd been acting like a fucking dick. Why was she so fearless? Because she assumed that what had happened out in the woods that day was her fault. And because she still, after everything, saw him as her friend. The kind of friend who needed to man the fuck up and stop letting her take all the blame. Which meant he'd have to explain. Talk to her about his… feelings. Which was gonna be tough, because he had to figure out a way to do it without talking about how he _really_ felt…

For fuck's sake…

Daryl decided to keep it simple. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. Tried to ignore the confused look Lilly was giving him and form the words he needed to say around a tongue that suddenly felt too large for his mouth.

"I hated having you in my tent. You know that?" He looked over at her to see if she understood what he was talking about. The flash of alarm in her eyes told him that she didn't.

He sighed, took another deep breath and let it out slowly before trying again. "So many times I just wanted you gone. But I wanted you there, at the same time. And then I just got used to it…"

"Used to what?" Those big blue eyes of hers now looked utterly bewildered. Fuck. She still wasn't getting it…

He pointed at her, lying next to him, and waved his hands at her prone form to emphasize his point. "Wanting this. You. You naked…"

Daryl watched her closely as she processed what it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to tell her. And he would have laughed out loud at the quick succession of expressions that flashed across her face like the rapidly moving pages of a flip book – sheer confusion, realization, shock, exasperation... If not for the last one, her pursed lips, narrowed eyes and quirked eyebrows making it clear that she'd just figured him out. Which was terrifying, because he now felt completely exposed.

Before he could lash out and distract her from whatever it was she thought she'd figured out about him, Lilly sat up and flashed him a wicked grin that made his heart stop. "So… You're saying you wanted… this?" She held his eyes as she hooked a thumb around the top of her dress and slowly dragged it down, exposing one of her creamy tits. "Or did you want both?" She used her other hand to pull the garment down further, exposing her other breast, then proceeded to drag it down her body as she whispered, "Or did you want the whole enchilada?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes as each successive inch of skin was bared. The graceful curve of Lilly's waist, her hips. The taut skin of her stomach, the shadow of her belly button, a peek of black lace. And now that he knew how soft she was… How her skin tasted… How he could make her moan with a slip of his tongue, pull a whine with the scrape of his teeth… He sat up, barely aware of what he was doing as his brain shut down, all blood redirected to his dick, now hard and straining against his zipper. He reached out to take over as he glanced at her face.

And froze when he saw her flashing eyes and the twitching corner of her mouth.

That fucking smirk of hers. Not so sexy now that he realized that, this time, she really _was_ trying to distract him. Or seduce him… Same fucking difference. Nope. No fucking way. Not gonna happen. Daryl reversed course and roughly yanked her dress up until it covered her tits.

He was gonna sack up, finish what he started, and own up to what had happened that day in the woods. Afterwards, if she still wanted him, he'd take the whole enchilada. Hell, he'd take the rice, beans, salsa and a double order of guacamole. And after he was done, he'd order another round… And that was all kinds of weird, because he hated Mexican food…

But first, "Stop distracting me, woman. I'm trying to make a fucking point. I wanted the whole enchilada, but I knew you didn't want that from me."

Wait a goddamned minute… She _did_ want the whole enchilada. Hell, she'd been waving the deluxe combo platter under his nose all fucking night! Daryl scowled and corrected himself. "At least I didn't think you wanted that from me…"

Just what in the holy fuck was going on here? And why was _he_ the only one doing all the talking? He spat out, "What the hell do you want from me? You need to tell me, because I'm fucking sick and tired of trying to figure out what's going on in that head of yours."

Lilly had enough sense to look ashamed, at least. And really nervous, too. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out in one long, shaky breath as she held his gaze, refusing to look away. He supposed he had to give her some points for that…

After a few moments, she answered him, her voice small and unsteady. "I… I don't know how I felt about you before that… fucking tree branch stabbed me. But after, well… I guess I figured it out. In the most histrionic way possible, I guess… But I figured it out." She paused for a moment, nodding to emphasize her point, lips narrowed and eyebrows drawn, before she started speaking again, this time with a stronger voice. "But honestly? I don't know… what I would have done if you'd tried to kiss me or anything like that before that day. I very well could have freaked out on you. I just wasn't thinking about any of that kind of stuff. It was too… Impractical? Not something I had the energy to think about."

Daryl could see her point. Until she'd shown up, waggling her tits and ass in his face, he'd felt the same way. He nodded to let her know he understood. But there she was again with the 'it'! Her expression making it pretty clear that the process of figuring out whatever the fuck 'it' was hadn't been a whole lot of fun… Tough shit. But he reined in his frustration, because the way she was chewing her lip told him that she was gathering her thoughts. If he kept his cool, maybe she'd clue him into whatever the fucking hell she was going on about…

His patience paid off when Lilly raised her eyes to look at him again and spoke. "But that day…" She shrugged and shot him a sheepish grin. "Something shifted that day. The way you were with me… the way you touched me… It was like you suddenly became this new person for me." She stopped abruptly, looked down at the hand she'd laid against his chest and shook her head. "No, wait… That's not right." It gave Daryl a strange sort of comfort to see that she was having as much trouble finding the right words as he was.

She took a deep breath and looked at him again, her eyes huge, unblinking and locked into his, almost like she'd given up on trying to hide the fact that she was scared. He also saw how determined she was, that she was going to make sure he understood whatever she was about to tell him, come hell or high water. "You were the same – I was the one who changed… And it felt like it came out of nowhere, at least it felt that way," her voice trailed off as she frowned, but continued to hold his gaze.

Then, almost like she saw something in his eyes that gave her what she needed, she continued in a stronger voice, "And suddenly, everything was different for me, and I couldn't shake it." Her decisive tone told him she thought everything was settled, that what she'd just said should make it clear what had changed for her that day.

What the hell? As for as he could tell, the only thing that had changed was that screeching U-turn she'd taken to get far away from both him and the hit-and-run that had left him ass-down on the concrete… The only thing that was different was the lengths to which she'd gone to maintain that distance, like _she'd_ been the one who'd been hit by a car… and he'd been the one driving it…

And then he got it.

She'd freaked out because this… thing between them… had come up on her 'out of nowhere.' Like a sucker punch. The kind you couldn't brace yourself for.

Daryl knew exactly what that felt like. Almost thirty years later and the memory of his brother hauling off and clocking him for taking his bike out for a joyride _still_ made him wince. And it wasn't just the raw force, strengthened and honed from his first stretch in the clink. It was also the way the fucker had bided his time until their Fall hunting trip, waiting for the moment when Daryl thought he'd gotten away with it… And the shock, the lack of warning had left him wide open to a punch – one single punch – that had knocked him out for a good five minutes. At least that's what his shitstain of a brother told him when he'd finally come to.

As ass-kickings went, it hadn't been that bad. He'd walked away from worse, both from his brother and his Pa. But that one blow – lasting less than a second – had been brutal enough to leave him flinching and terrified of another one. Almost six months of barely sleeping, afraid to turn his back on Merle, so sure the asshole would get the jump on him while his guard was down.

Yeah…. He understood.

For him, though, this thing between them hadn't been sudden. It had come up on him slow. Even before the first punch, he'd known he was surrounded, that there was no way out. So he'd sort of seen it coming, had time to get used to the idea before he got the shit kicked out of him. Probably why he'd handled it better… Daryl almost started laughing out loud again at the idea that he had a better grip on this shit than Lilly did.

But he promptly lost his train of thought at the feel of Lilly's fingernails lightly teasing through the hair on his chest. Daryl looked down and watched her fingers, unable to look away as she started speaking again, "I thought that if I got some distance… But really, I was just a fucking coward. It was easier to stay away from you, to hurt you, than to let you know what was going on with me." Her voice shook and he raised his eyes to meet hers. And there was that same worried, but defiant expression – one he was starting to get used to. She _wanted_ him to know that she was scared. _Wanted_ him to know that, despite that fear, she was here. Now. Trying, in her own fucked-up way, to be brave. For him.

Fuck.

He noticed that one of her curls had come loose, now dangling over her eye. And he couldn't take his eyes off of it, fascinated by the way the flickering light from his lantern transformed its color from copper, to gold, to blood-red and then back again… How, if he squinted, it kind of looked like a flame licking her face… Without thinking, he reached over and caught the lock of hair with his finger. He really didn't know what to think right now. Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want to think. He just wanted to focus on something in front of him, something he could actually touch, feel, dissect… make sense of.

Jesus, her hair was soft. Even softer than he'd imagined. But it didn't smell like he remembered. He brought it to his nose, trying to identify the scent. And fuck if it didn't smell like cookies… So maybe it was the softness of her hair, its warm smell… The distance she was talking about and how that wasn't a factor anymore, not with the strangely intimate way they were touching each other… And the realization that right now, at this moment... he kind of liked it. That laying here with her after getting the shit kicked out of him didn't feel so bad. It felt kind of nice, in fact. So maybe that was why he decided to open his mouth…

"Yeah… It all changed then, huh… Just seeing you bleeding like that, not knowing what to do… I'd gotten so good at ignoring it… But then it all came out… How much I… I wanted you." As soon as the sound of that that embarrassing gush of sentimental _sap_ hit his ears, he cringed. Every muscle in his body seizing, except for the one in his mouth...

That douchebag from Merle's NA group suddenly popped into his head. The one who took the stage every week with stories about his ex-girlfriend, sending his brother home covered with flecks of pink glitter he couldn't wash off, a wicked temper and a desperate need for a fix. Daryl had a hell of a time convincing Merle to go back every week. Until the day his brother cornered the fucker in an alley and beat the snot out of him, that is. That blathering jackass never showed up at another meeting – word around town was that he'd relapsed a week later. Good. Getting clean had turned him into a pussy…

But the meetings had been good for Merle, helping him stay clean for a nice, long stretch. Chipped away at that narcotic shell of his, revealing bits of the brother he remembered from when they were kids. The brother who'd watched out for him, the brother who, if he heard the crap coming out of Darylina's mouth, would grab him by the throat and choke back the words he just… couldn't. Stop. _Spewing_!

But Merle was long gone… And the word vomit just kept on coming. "I was sure you saw it all. And I thought I scared you off."

No two ways about it. He _had_ scared Lilly off. But she was back, wasn't she? For how long, though? He snuck a peek at her, trying to gauge the level of freakout he knew his words had triggered. Yup. She looked freaked out… But shocked, too. And she definitely didn't look like she was going to bolt just yet. Fuck, if only she'd bolt… Take off and save him from himself. But she hadn't moved a muscle, intent on the pussified words that just kept pouring from his mouth.

Daryl gave up, realizing that the hole he'd dug himself was too deep to crawl out of, so what was another few feet... "And I was pissed at you for not wanting the same thing. And I was pissed at myself for letting you see it. And then you couldn't get out of my tent fast enough… And you wouldn't even look at me… And I thought you hated me and wanted me to fuck off and die…"

He closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, realizing that he was done talking. And he was done being pissed off. At her, anyway… Wasn't her fault that she had this fucked up, hoodoo power to make him run at the mouth. But the Jack? Which he'd forgotten had the power to turn him into a chatty motherfucker?

He muttered, "And I'm pissed at Jack Daniels for making me talk like a fucking idiot…"

Daryl lay there, afraid to open his eyes, every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for some kind of reaction. A punch to the dick or a slap in the face. Maybe a pat on the head or one last look at her ass as she hightailed it out of his tent. He concentrated on the steady push and pull of his breaths as he tried to figure out which response would hurt the least, wondered what the fuck was taking her so long… And flinched when he felt her soft lips brush his own.

He opened his eyes slowly. He hadn't imagined it. Lilly was right there, so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face. With an expression that he would have described as stunned, if not for a goofy-ass smile that took up half her face. Which she quickly swapped out for that sexy as all hell smirk of hers…

"I'm developing a fondness for Mr. Daniels."

Yeah… Jack Daniels could still go fuck himself. But not too hard, because Lilly was still here. And not seeming to be put off too much by the shit that had just poured out of his mouth. In fact, by the way she was stroking his chest, she seemed to like it. Fuck… Did that mean she wanted him to talk about his feelings some more? Well, she was shit out of luck because he'd said just about everything there was to say. A hell of a lot more, in fact. At least he'd managed to hold back the part about how he really felt…

Then Lilly started talking and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Thank fucking God…

"I had no idea this was going on with you. I was just so worried that I couldn't be the same person for you, the one you could go hunting with… crack jokes with… I thought that, if I got some distance, I could go back to being that person for you." Daryl relaxed a bit when he heard the warm, fluid rush of her words, reassured to see that Lilly was back.

God, he'd missed the easy way she'd always had with him... Before that motherfucking tree branch had messed everything up, she'd never let his pissy attitude or awkwardness get in the way of saying whatever was on her mind or telling him what he needed to hear. He was happy to see that at least one of them had made it through that minefield of a conversation the better for it. Maybe all that mushy crap that poured out of his mouth had lubed that awkward space between them. Helped along by the Jack, of course, which seemed to make her run at the mouth as well…

But the whiskey also seemed to be fucking with her logic. Because she had it all wrong. Sure, he'd missed that girl she was talking about, the one who was always cracking jokes, somehow finding a way to pull a laugh out of him even when he was running on nothing but fumes and bile. And yeah, he missed their times in the woods more then he liked to admit.

But it wasn't the things they did together that he'd missed… It had been _her_.

The last two weeks had been sheer hell. The sight of her around camp, treating everyone else the same, acting like Daryl had been nothing more than a temporary diversion, that their friendship hadn't meant anything to her… That's what had cut him to the bone. But what kept him bleeding was the way she was _there_ at the same time, what with her hovering around the edges, close enough to be a constant reminder of the daily fix he wasn't getting anymore. Brief glimpses through the flickering campfire over dinner… The sound of her voice or her laughter floating up to his new campsite… The lingering smell of her in his tent that first week, then the overwhelming sadness when it faded to nothing…

"But it didn't work."

Daryl's eyes cut sharply to her as he muffled a snort. Yeah… no shit. This distance she was going on about, this _space_ she'd thought would fix everything, had only delayed the come-to-Jesus they were having right here, right now. But then again, maybe the time apart had been good. At least for her… Because, while he'd spent these two weeks bleeding out and licking his wounds, she'd taken that time to shake off her sucker punch and clear her head… Pull her shit together enough to risk another one...

Well, _he_ wasn't willing to risk another beatdown. He didn't give a shit if that meant he was being a pussy. There was no way he could risk fucking this up and losing her for good. Daryl's blood ran cold as he realized that everything – _everything_ – was riding on him getting this right. Not only this little chat they were having, but also this… new thing they were becoming… whatever the hell _that_ was. And being able to keep that, keep her, keep from ending up ass-down on the concrete again was going to be tricky as fuck. One false move, one stray word… A shift in the wind, an unexpected nudge from something outside his control… Jesus Christ, he couldn't do this. He was gonna fuck this up, he just knew it…

"And then I realized… that I was hurting my best friend. And I missed you." His eyes caught the movement of Lilly's hand as she reached out to touch his face, the feathery glide of her finger across his lip sharp enough to yank him back from the edge of his panic attack. Back to her.

Her soft voice shook as she added, "But I also ached for you… I… I ache for you…" The light from his lantern was bright enough to show her face, her expression so raw, her eyes so open and… fuck. He should have just let Lilly yank that dress off, because right now, she was just about as naked as a person could be. And her honesty, everything laid bare for him to see, ripped through him like a bolt of lightning, rooting him to this place, this moment and this girl he didn't know how to be with. Paralyzed. He couldn't take off, he couldn't leave her, he couldn't walk away from this… He couldn't jump, he couldn't let go, he couldn't bare himself to her…

Lilly shifted slightly and he caught a shine to her eyes that made it clear that this time, she was definitely going to start crying. And if she started, he didn't know what he'd do. Maybe join her? Daryl didn't want to find out, so he did the only thing he think of. He kissed her.

**A/N: Poor angsty Daryl… All those fucking ****_feelings_**** of his… Don't you just want to give him a hug? Yeah, don't we all… I know my version of him might be a bit more neurotic than most, but that's how I see the man. He doesn't say much, but behind every stony gaze and scowl, there's a virtual whirlwind of activity going on in that brain of his, with so much energy expended on second-guessing every single interaction he has with a fellow human being. So romantic love? Well, there's no way in hell he'd go gently into that good night. **

**As for the next chapter, I'm not making any promises about when you'll get it, but I once again have stretches of time that allow me to really dig into this story. So, barring some kind of apocalypse, I seriously doubt you'll have to wait five months for the next one (ugh, waves of shame swept over me when I did the math...) You should also know that the next chapter will introduce a more conventional, back and forth linear format. Because, while the 'her take/his take' format has been a really good writing exercise that forced me to justify each side of the exchange and fully explore each character, it's also partly responsible for the writer's block that kicked my ass all summer. **

**But whatever happens, know this. I will NOT leave this story unfinished. Lilly and Daryl WILL have sex. Amazing sex. Because they've earned it. And based on the passages I've written so far, I recommend making sure you're on birth control because they are just about the most erotic things I've ever written. Maybe you'll get a bit of it in the next chapter? **

**Last, but by no means least, I have to send a huge THANK YOU to EnglishPoet18 (if you don't already know her stuff, read it – it's brilliant and HOT!) I was having major angst with Daryl's headspace right before his Jack-fueled gush and she helped me come to grips with how and why he'd go there. Her coaching and therapy, along with a number of other people's encouragement (Sophiacharlotte, deadgirlWriting, HaloHunter89, Alva Starr, and all the wonderful people who left reviews) helped me power through the bitchiest case of writer's block I've ever experienced. What can I say? I'm a neurotic motherfucker who needs a lot of handholding…**

**Anyway, please drop me a review and let me know what you think. Did you buy into my version of Daryl's rambling, angsty thought process? Are you pissed at me for making you wait so long? How bad do you want to see these two get over themselves and get down to some steamy, cathartic sex? **

**Also… did you know that every time you click that review button, Norman Reedus licks his lips? **


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